Monthly Archives: December 2011

You will have noticed that I have gone with a more political theme for 2012. Yup, it’s going to be quite a year here in the old US of A.

I spotted the Pearls of Christ Church sign while on a road trip recently with my friends Twylene (who we all call ‘Aunt B’) and Bubba. We had to stop and take a picture. The pastor seems to be having some problems explaining the difference between the Bible and politics to his congregation. The church has its own baseball field (dubbed the ‘Field of Grace’), and he has had to post the following on the perimeter fence:

OK, I’m not sure where to start with this sign. For one thing, what with being raised Episcopalian and all, I have never heard of a church where alcohol is not integral to the whole faith thing. I mean, our immediate response to any sacrament is to throw a cocktail party.

But guns and theft? Really? Do we have to post a sign about that? At a Church?

‘I can’t seem to stop crying, and it feels as though I am having a heart attack,’ I confessed to the doctor last week. After some interrogation, he ascertained that I was not only moving mother and big daddy from the big house, but was also expecting dozens of relatives to arrive for Christmas, all of whom are on different diets. One is macrobiotic, one lactose intolerant, one only eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and then of course, Big Daddy only eats cholesterol. Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan a menu under such circumstances?

‘Don’t worry,’ he assured me. I am just going to give you a little prescription to get through the holidays. Then you can come back and we will get you some serious professional help’. I just LOVE my doctor.

So I happily trotted off to the pharmacist, took a little pill, stopped crying, and went down the street for dinner with my friends Twylene and Bubba. Have I told you about them? They are fabulous southern cooks, with close links to the more dubious characters in the Country Music Industry. From what I can remember, we had something with grits. But that was after a couple of glasses of wine. [note to self: read the instructions on the medicine label].

The next day, while shopping for groceries with Miss Pearl, I took a call on my cell phone. ‘Honey,’ chirped Twylene, ‘you’d better get your ass over here because your poodle is arriving in half an hour.’

Huh?

Sure enough, there she was, in a little pink jacket. The adoption lady explained that she is on a strict diet of turnip greens, sweet potatoes, and lean beef. No, I am not kidding:

Anyway, it turns out that her name is Blanche, and she has been living in a trailer park in Goodletsville, Tennessee, with some no account owner, and is the rejected love child of Tammy Wynette’s last dog. Trust me to get stuck with a C-class celebrity with a fussy appetite.

Well howdy! You will have noticed that I have been absent for some time. This is because my autumn went plumb crazy when Big Daddy sliced a golf ball in the mountains and decided it was a good idea to fetch it out of the creek, instead of using his walker and oxygen like he was ‘sposed to do. Several months later, and you will be happy to hear that he is fine, and that he and mother are moving to a deluxe apartment in the sky. No, that is not a euphemism. It’s a penthouse.

Anyway, I’m back! And I thought I would start out by sharing some photos with you that just sum up the true spirit of Christmas back here in Tennessee, where Mary and Joseph decided to skip the inn:

Where, if you have truly accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Saviour, the angels will hang out the washing and chop the firewood:

Where the wise men are very scary drag queens, who are legally entitled to bring automatic weapons as a present for a minor:

And finally, where shotgun weddings in dubious circumstances are so normal, that grandma knit Joseph a whole trousseau: